Auld Lang Syne
by ddanne
Summary: Boris and Annabelle celebrate New Year's Eve with a masquerade ball.
1. Chapter 1

"**Auld Lang Syne"**

I wrote this story back in 2010. I decided to "tweak" it, and post it. What better way to start 2015 than with a story?!

Annabelle and Boris are celebrating New Year's Eve with a masquerade ball. This story was written before the writers turned Dieter into a ninja assassin, and before the writers introduced us to Cousin Claudette, and Cousin Milos. I thought Boris needed some relatives, so I gave him an elderly grandmother, Olga, who was visiting for the holidays.

Annabelle is a character I created back in the first season of "Royal Pains". If you want to read about the very beginnings of Boris and Annabelle's romance, check out "Boris and the First Invitation".

Enjoy!

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**Disclaimer: **I don't own Boris or any of the "Royal Pains" characters.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

Annabelle looked at her reflection with a critical eye. . .and put the finishing touches on her makeup. She fluffed a bit of pearlized powder on her collar bones. . .added a bit more eye liner to her already smoky eyes. She'd put her lipstick on after she put on her gown.

Annabelle continued to sit at her dressing table. . .aware that the minutes were ticking by. . .and she was running out of time. She didn't want to admit it. . .but she was getting nervous! In retrospect. . .this masquerade ball had been an insane idea. She HATED big parties! Note to self: the next time Olga has a seemingly great idea. . .RUN!

Boris had been cranky for several days. . .and his mood was only getting worse, not better! He was like a bear with a sore paw. Granted, a very elegant bear, but a bear, nevertheless! He hated big parties even more than she did. He was only hosting this ball because she had talked him into it! But Boris liked things quiet, controlled. . .predictable. And the hustle and bustle of the party preparations were driving him to distraction. He had taken to glowering at everyone; the staff had taken to running in the opposite direction when they saw him coming!

Annabelle had tried to distract Boris earlier in the day, but she hadn't been able to calm her nerves OR lighten his mood!

Well. . .she couldn't put this off any longer. She stood up, dropped her robe, and walked over to where her gown was hanging. She took the gown, dropped it over her head, and twitched it into place.

She could hear Boris, in his bedroom, muttering in German. Smiling, she walked through the connecting door into his bedroom. "If you help me with my zipper, I'll help you with your studs."

"What?!" Boris looked up in surprise.

"Boris. . .zip my dress, and I'll put your studs in! Please?!"

With a sigh of relief, Boris smiled one of those little half-smiles that drove Annabelle wild, and nodded. "Ja. . .kommen sie her."

Annabelle walked over to Boris and turned around. He pulled the zipper up, slowly, then rested his hands gently on her shoulders. "You are so beautiful, Prinzessin!" He spoke quietly, close to her ear.

She stood still for a moment, enjoying his closeness. Then she pulled away – reluctantly – and did a 'girly' twirl in front of him. "What do you think of the gown?! And before you answer. . .REMEMBER. . .you paid for it!"

"The gown is exquisite, Prinzessin! And WHATEVER it cost me. . .it is worth every penny!"

The gown WAS exquisite. . .and the most expensive dress Annabelle had ever purchased! The gown was black slipper satin, with a deep sweetheart neckline, and a low cut back. Two straps crossed over the upper back to hold the gown in place. The straps were encrusted with clear crystals, and the crystals continued on the back of the skirt, down onto the hips. The skirt flaired out slightly below the knees. The overall effect was very dramatic!

"You will be the belle of the ball, Prinzessin! Now, bitte. . .help me with these bloody studs?!"

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"Annabelle?! Bitte. . .let's GO!"

Annabelle took one last look in the mirror, flicked a stray lock of hair into place, added a bit more lip gloss over her red lipstick, and then put on the black silk mask, encrusted with clear crystals to match the crystals on her dress. The Annabelle she saw reflected in the mirror was. . .exotic. . .and she liked it!

She walked back into Boris's bedroom, only to find Boris answering a call on his cell phone. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Annabelle in her mask, then he reluctantly turned away, speaking in German to the person at the other end of the cell phone.

"BORIS?!" Annabelle walked over to Boris, trying to grab the arm that held the phone to his ear. Boris put his hand up to hold her off, and quickly ended the call, putting the cell phone back into the inside breast pocket of his elegantly cut tuxedo.

Boris rubbed his left temple with his thumb as Annabelle started in. "Boris, it's New Year's Eve, for God's sake?! We are hosting a masquerade ball in less than an hour! And here you are, on your cell phone, doing BUSINESS?! I know you didn't really want to have this party, and I talked you into it, but you PROMISED! No business today! And you not only promised me, you promised your grandmother! And the party hasn't even started yet, and you've already broken your promise!"

"Annabelle, bitte stoppen?!" Boris put his hands on Annabelle's shoulders. "I am sorry, Prinzessin! It was a small matter, and it has been taken care of. Now, let us not spend any more time arguing about it, bitte?!" And before Annabelle could say anything else, Boris kissed her, hard! And he kept kissing her until she stopped fighting him, and started kissing back! When Boris finally broke off the kiss, Annabelle was breathless. "Now, Prinzessin, before I make us BOTH late for our own party, go fix your lipstick! Then we really MUST go, before Dieter sends the bodyguards to DRAG us downstairs!"

"Wait. . .what. . .just happened here?!"

Boris gave Annabelle another one of his quirky little half-smiles. "Well. . .a mysterious, masked woman came in here, and tried to seduce me, but I resisted!" Boris chuckled, and gave Annabelle a gentle push toward the door. "Now, GO, fix your lipstick! And please do hurry, Prinzessin?!"

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Boris and Annabelle were in the main entry hall, greeting their guests. The ballroom was filling up very quickly, and most of the guests were wearing masks. It was very entertaining, trying to recognize the faces behind the masks!

Waiters were circulating with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. There would be a buffet set up in the formal dining room later in the evening, and dessert would be served after midnight. Annabelle and Boris were both sipping champagne from crystal flutes. But she and Boris had been so busy with the guests, she had barely been able to snag a shrimp from a passing waiter. She could feel the champagne going straight to her head.

The entry hall was starting to clear, as the last of the guests straggled in.

Annabelle pressed close to Boris and spoke softly to him, so that none of the stragglers could overhear. "Boris, is there any way I could convince you to go back upstairs. . .and finish what you started earlier?!" Annabelle looked up at Boris seductively, and gave him her most enticing smile.

Boris gave Annabelle a speculative look, then ruefully shook his head. "No, Prinzessin; we have a ballroom full of guests, all here, at YOUR invitation! Any tryst, I think, will NOW have to WAIT?!"

"DAMN?! Just my luck. . .all dressed up and nowhere to go?!" Annabelle took another sip of champagne. "All right, Boris. . .be that way?! I'm going to go and check on your grandmother, and get something to eat. I'm STARVING!"

Boris gently took the crystal flute from her hand. "Annabelle, leave the champagne. I do believe, you are getting tipsy!"

"Hmph?! Yes. . .and when I get tipsy. . .I get amorous! Or do I need to remind you?!" Annabelle wrapped her arms around Boris's neck. Boris gently disentangled her arms. Annabelle put her hands on her hips, and shook her head in disbelief. "No?! You're missing out on a GOLDEN opportunity, Boris!" With that, Annabelle started up the stairs, in search of Olga. . .and something to eat!

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Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! PLEASE. . .write a review and let me know what you think. THANKS!


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the next chapter of the masquerade ball. Enjoy!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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Boris watched Annabelle climb the stairs, her hips swaying, the crystals on the back of her skirt twinkling under the lights of the chandelier. Boris took a deep breath, and paused to reconsider her proposition. He was just about to go after her, when his cell phone rang, again!

"Verdammt noch mal in die Hölle?!" Boris answered the phone, and began speaking in rapid, angry German to the unfortunate bank manager at the other end of the phone. Just as he was about to end the call, he glanced up, and saw Annabelle, leaning on the railing, looking down at him. Her anger and disappointment were obvious.

He ended the call, and started climbing the stairs as rapidly as he could, but Annabelle had disappeared. He swore again in frustration. He waded into the crowd in the ballroom, searching for Annabelle, but his progress was slow, and Annabelle was nowhere to be found.

Finally, he spotted his grandmother, and made his way to her. She was resplendent in gold satin, holding a gold sequined mask to her face. She was talking to Hank, who was wearing a suit, and what appeared to be a 'Lone Ranger' mask.

"Boris! How HANDSOME you look this evening! And so like your father. . .and your grandfather!"

Boris exchanged pleasantries with Hank and his grandmother, then his impatience got the better of him. "Olga, have you seen Annabelle? I seem to have. . .lost her. . .in this crowd?!"

Hank was watching Boris closely. "Boris, are you ok?"

"Yes, Hank, I am fine! I just cannot find my. . .I just cannot find Annabelle?!"

Boris excused himself, and made his way out of the ballroom. He was getting angrier, and more anxious, by the minute. Annabelle couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, but this was a BIG house, as Annabelle liked to remind him. But, if anyone knew where Annabelle was, it would be Dieter!

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And he was right. Dieter had seen her, on her way to her rooms, ostensibly to change her shoes, and carrying a bottle of champagne.

Boris took the stairs, two at a time. He entered his suite, and then walked to the connecting door. He saw Annabelle's high-heeled sandals on the floor, and her mask on the bed. Annabelle was standing at the French doors, looking out into the night and sipping another glass of champagne. Annabelle could see his reflection in the panes of glass; she knew he was there, but she didn't turn around.

"Annabelle?!"

"I've always hated New Year's Eve!"

"Annabelle, you are blowing this all out of proportion! It was two BRIEF phone calls!"

"You made a promise, Boris! You could have turned your phone off!"

"Yes, I suppose I could have. . .but I did not! Annabelle. . .you are acting childish! We have a ballroom full of guests downstairs, and YOU are as much responsible for them as I am! Now, I am sorry if my taking those phone calls offended your sensibilities. You can chastise me. . .LATER! Right now, bitte, put your shoes back on, put your mask back on, and come back downstairs with me!"

"Well! That was quite a pithy little speech! You didn't seriously think that it would mollify me. . .did you?!"

Boris walked over to Annabelle and stood behind her, neither one of them saying anything. Annabelle continued to sip her champagne.

"Annabelle, bitte, turn around, and TALK to me?!"

Annabelle took another sip of champagne, then slowly turned around to face Boris. "All right, Boris, whatever do you want to talk about?!"

Boris saw the pain in Annabelle's eyes, and felt a stab of guilt, knowing that he had caused it. But stronger than the guilt, was the combination of anger and desire that was pumping through his veins. Annabelle, it seemed, was up to her old tricks. She could be contrary, and provoking him was one of her favorite sports! He was sorely tempted, torn between turning her over his knee, and tumbling her onto the bed?!

Boris reached out, gently taking her face in his hands. "Annabelle, I truly am sorry! But I honestly do not understand. . .why. . . you are. . .SO upset?!" He was kissing her forehead. . .and then her lips. . .again. . .and again. . .and again!

Boris could see the pulse in her throat starting to throb. His lips quirked into one of his half smiles. Anger. . .and desire?!

She cleared her throat, and pushed him away. When he was that close, he seemed to use up all the oxygen in the room, and she was definitely having trouble breathing! "It was something that your grandmother said."

"Damn her?! Annabelle, she will fill your head with stories that are tainted with her bitterness. What has she told you this time?!"

"Just that. . .it was always going to be like this?!"

Boris shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head. "It was always going to be like WHAT, Annabelle?! I do not understand?!"

"Boris, you're like your father, and your grandfather. You're ALWAYS going to put the bank before me! Did you know, your grandfather wasn't there when your father was born?! He was at the bank, working!"

"No. . .I. . .no. . .I did not know that! But, Annabelle, I am NOT my father, OR my grandfather! I DO NOT always put the bank first; you know that!" Boris glanced at his watch. "Annabelle, bitte, it is almost midnight! What do you want me to do to. . .allay. . .your fears?!"

"I don't know, Boris?!"

"Will this help?!" Boris took out his cell phone, and handed it to Annabelle.

Annabelle looked from Boris, to the phone, and back to Boris. "What am I supposed to do with this?!"

"Whatever. . .will put me back in your good graces, Prinzessin?!"

"You're serious?!"

"Absolut!"

Annabelle looked at Boris for a moment for a moment longer, then sat down on the bed, bending over to slip her shoes on. She stood up, slipped her mask back on, then clicked the cell phone off and tossed it on the bed. "OK, you and I will go back to the party; the cell phone stays here!"

"Done!"

"Done?"

"DONE!" Boris extended his arm to Annabelle. "Now, let us go back to the ball! It is almost midnight, and I will want my kiss!"

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Annabelle and Boris sneaked back into the ballroom just before midnight. Someone had started the countdown, and everyone was joining in. "10. . .9. . .8. . .7. . .6. . ." Boris pulled Annabelle closer. "5. . .4. . .3. . .2. . .1!"

The band started to play 'Auld Lang Syne', and people joined in, singing the traditional song. People were clapping and cheering, hugging and kissing. Confetti and streamers were flying through the air.

Boris pulled Annabelle's mask off, and kissed her, hard! "Glückliches neues Jahr, Prinzessin! Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year, Boris!"

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January 1, 2011, 2:00 a.m. Boris and Annabelle were sitting in the empty dining room, eating leftovers as the staff cleared the buffet.

"Annabelle, when may I have my phone back, bitte?!"

"Tomorrow!"

"But, Prinzessin, it IS tomorrow?!"

"Nooooo. . .it's TODAY! Today is January 1st. You may have your phone back tomorrow, January 2nd."

"Annabelle, you cannot be serious?!"

"You wanted back in my good graces, Boris. This is your penance!"

"Annabelle. . .I. . .you. . .?!"

"I have rendered you speechless; I LOVE it! An auspicious start for 2011! Tomorrow, Boris, and not a minute before! I MAY, however, have a few ideas, to help you pass the time?!"

"Hmph?! Do ANY of those ideas involve you ending up in my bed?!"

"They might?! Would you like me to wear my mask?!"

"I was HOPING you would!"

"Ha?! Well, then, let's go upstairs, and you can start doing your penance! And, Boris?!"

"Ja?"

"Bring the champagne!"

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As always, feedback is very much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

So. . .the 4th of July has come and gone, and what did I do?! I finished writing three NEW chapters to my New Year's story! They've been sitting on my computer for months!

It's New Year's Day, the morning after the masquerade ball. ENJOY!

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CHAPTER THREE

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"Annabelle?!"

"Hmmmmm. . .?!"

Chuckling, Boris shook his head. Annabelle had burrowed under the covers; all that he could see was a fluff of red hair. "Annabelle! It is 2011! Are you going to sleep away the new year?!"

"Hmmmmm. . .hmpf?!"

"I had a light breakfast sent up. Would you care for some tea, Prinzessen?"

Annoyed, Annabelle peeked out from under the covers. "Bloody hell, Boris! What time is it?!"

"It is almost nine o'clock!"

"Bloody hell. . .it's still the middle of the night!" Grumbling, Annabelle burrowed back under the covers. "Bloody hell!"

Boris was enjoying himself. "Annabelle, you are not greeting the new year with much enthusiasm. Did you, perhaps, have too much champagne last night?!"

"Hmmmmm. . .hmpf?!"

"ANNABELLE!"

"Bloody hell, Boris!" Exasperated, Annabelle sat up, the covers falling away. Glancing down, she muttered another "Bloody hell!", and quickly pulled the covers back up, securing them under her arms as she sat back against the headboard of the bed. Looking around the room, she focused on Boris with a quizzical look. "Boris. . .what happened to my gown, and my shoes. . .and my knickers?!"

Boris was working very hard not to laugh. "Your things are on your bed, Prinzessin."

"Hmpf?!" Annabelle cleared her throat, and ran her hand through her hair, trying to get her bearings. "Tea! You said there was tea. Where is my tea, Boris?!"

Boris busied himself at the breakfast cart, then carried a tray table with a croissant and a cup of tea to Annabelle. He settled the tray table across her lap, then he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.

Annabelle took a sip of her tea, and, savoring it, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headboard of the bed. "Ahhh. . .tea is a cup of life!"

"Such a profundity!"

Annabelle opened her eyes, and shot Boris a baleful look. "Why are you still here?! Why aren't you out conquering the world?!"

"Well. . .it IS a holiday, Prinzessin! And. . .this IS my bedroom!"

"Hmpf?!"

"And there is the matter of my cell phone. . .?!"

Annabelle tossed a bit of croissant at Boris. "Boris, you are such a bloody wanker! Your cell phone is in the top drawer of my dresser, underneath the pink La Perla panties you bought me! If you want it, go and get it. But, you'll be breaking your promise to me!"

Boris studied Annabelle for a moment. "This is really important to you, ja?"

"Yes, Boris, it is! I want to know that I'm important to you! I want to know that I am, at the very least, more important than a bloody cell phone! And if I'm not? Then, your grandmother really was right?!"

Sighing, Boris stood up, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "There are some matters that I must take care of downstairs. I will leave you to eat your breakfast in peace." Boris turned and headed for the door.

"Boris?"

Boris stopped, and turned around. "Ja?"

"Aren't you going to take your cell phone?"

Annabelle could see his mouth quirk into a little half-smile. "No, Prinzessin, I am not!" With that, Boris clicked his heels together, gave her a slight bow, and departed, leaving Annabelle alone with her croissant and cup of tea.

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Feedback would REALLY be appreciated! PLEASE – Let me know if you have any comments, criticisms, questions, or suggestions!

Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

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After the excitement of the masquerade ball the night before, the house was strangely quiet.

Annabelle was alone in the library, curled up on one of the white leather couches in front of the crackling fire, cozy under a cashmere throw. She was dressed warmly, in a metallic gold sweater with a deep cowl neck, and black velvet pants, but she always found the library to be drafty. It was a cold, raw January day; wind was rattling the floor-to-ceiling windows. Annabelle was reading the latest Daniel Silva novel, and sipping eggnog from a cut crystal mug.

Every few pages, Annabelle would glance up from her book to look at the Christmas decorations. They really were quite beautiful! Hundreds of white lights twinkled on the tree, and reflected off the vintage, hand-blown glass ornaments. The garland that draped across the mantel twinkled with the same white lights. There were pots of brilliant red poinsettias everywhere, and Santa figurines tucked into every nook and cranny.

Annabelle had been in the library for about an hour, when the door opened and Boris walked in.

"Boris! Where have you been hiding yourself? I was beginning to think that aliens had landed and carried everyone off!

"I was. . .there were some things that needed my attention."

"Hmpf!" Annabelle held up her novel. "Boris, I can read you like this book! You were upstairs in your study, answering emails, weren't you?!"

Boris hesitated, trying to gauge Annabelle's mood. "Yes, Annabelle, I was in my study, and I was answering emails. I am sorry if that upsets you, but I really do not want to argue anymore! Can we not call a truce, at least for today, and start the new year in peace?!"

"Oh, Boris, I don't want to fight, either! I'm sorry about last night, really, I am! I may have. . .overreacted. . .just a bit. . .about the cell phone?!"

"So. . .we have a truce, ja?!"

"Yes, Boris, we have a truce!"

"Sehr gut!"

Annabelle hesitated, and then spoke. "It's just that. . .?!" She looked away, leaving her sentence unfinished.

Boris sighed, and shook his head. "Say what is on your mind. Annabelle!"

Now it was Annabelle's turn to sigh. "It's just that. . .I can't stop thinking about what your grandmother said!"

"Gott verdammt, Annabelle?! I will NOT allow Olga to ruin our relationship!"

"Oh, Boris. . .that's just not going to happen!"

"And yet, she has you believing that I will always put business first! She is poisoning your mind, Annabelle! She will do everything within her power to ruin our relationship; it is what she does!"

"I. . .she. . .?!" Annabelle didn't finish her sentence, and threw her hands up in frustration. "Is that what you really believe, Boris?!"

"Ja, that is what I believe; that is what I know!"

Annabelle shook her head in disbelief. "Boris. . .you absolutely flabbergast me?!" Boris shot her a quizzical look, but didn't respond, so Annabelle continued. "You are, without a doubt, one of the smartest men I've ever met! You know art, and music, literature, architecture, history, and politics! You speak more languages than anyone I know! You understand all the working parts of the global economy, but, sometimes. . .you just don't get people at all!"

"Really?! That is what you think?!"

"Yes, Boris, that is what I think! I also think that I understand your grandmother!"

"And I do not?"

"No, Sweet Pea, you do not!"

"Well then, please, enlighten me!"

"Why bother?! You won't listen!"

"Annabelle, I am standing here, and I am obviously listening!"

"Oh, Boris, please don't try playing semantics with me; you'll lose! Yes, you're hearing my words, but you aren't really listening to what I'm saying; it is abundantly clear that your mind is closed! You're not willing to give an inch where your grandmother is concerned!"

"And. . .you know this how?!"

"Because that's how you deal with people! People are either black or white to you. But here – in the real world – people are many, many shades of gray!"

Boris stopped to consider what Annabelle was saying, stretching his arms out to the side and then crossing them across his chest.

"My grandmother is a bitter old crone, who does not love anyone but herself. But, if you think that you can convince me otherwise, by all means, have at it!" With that, Boris sat down on the white leather couch opposite Annabelle. "I AM listening, Annabelle!"

Sighing, Annabelle set her book aside, and took a sip of her eggnog. "Your grandmother loves you very much, Boris!"

"Hmpf?!"

"You are such a wanker, Boris! And listening REALLY isn't your strong suit, is it?!"

Boris put his hands up in mock surrender. "I am sorry! Please. . .continue. I will listen. . .this time."

"As I was saying, your grandmother loves you very much."

Boris just couldn't help himself; he interrupted Annabelle yet again. "She turned her back on me, when I needed her the most!"

Annabelle was getting exasperated. "I KNOW that, Boris! And for the record, I think your grandmother was wrong! I'm not trying to excuse her behavior; I'm simply trying to explain it!"

Boris stood up abruptly, walked to the drink cart, and poured Scotch into a cut crystal tumbler. He walked back over to the couch and sat down, took a drink of the Scotch, and then sat back on the couch, crossing his legs.

Annabelle sat silently as she watched Boris struggling to rein in his temper. Distracted, he rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb while he gathered his thoughts. He took one more sip of Scotch, then he set the tumbler down on the glass-topped table. "I am ready to listen, Prinzessin."

"I think. . .that your grandmother did what she did out of self-preservation, Boris!" She waited to see if Boris was going to react.

"Go on."

"First, your grandmother lost her husband – your grandfather. He was the love of her life, Boris, and she was devastated. Olga got hit by a runaway train, and she never saw it coming! Then, she lost her son – your father. He was the crown prince of the kingdom, and then, he was gone, leaving you behind." Annabelle paused, and took a deep breath. "Your grandmother is a strong woman, Boris, but she couldn't go through that a third time. She couldn't nurture you, and love you, only to lose you, too. I think, that's when she started putting up walls."

"And she has told you this?!"

Annabelle shook her head. "Nooooo. . .not in so many words. But she did tell me that, after the death of your father, she couldn't give you what you needed. I just. . .filled in the blanks."

Annabelle sat silently, watching Boris process their conversation. "Well, Prinzessin, you have certainly given me much to contemplate." Boris drained his glass of Scotch, then walked to the cart to pour another. He carried his Scotch to the windows, where he stood for several minutes, looking out at the grounds, lost in thought.

"It is beginning to snow again."

Relieved to hear him speak, Annabelle turned toward Boris. "So it is!" Annabelle watched Boris for a minute or two, then sighed. "Boris. . .may I ask you a question?"

Boris finally turned away from the windows. "Of course, Prinzessin!"

"Do you love your grandmother?"

Boris thought for a moment, then shrugged his elegant shoulders. "She is. . .my family?!"

"Boris, that's not the answer to my question!"

Boris walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning back and crossing his legs; he seemed to be stalling for time. "All right, Annabelle, the answer to your question is yes! I love my grandmother!"

"Well, then, Boris, I think you owe it to your grandmother, AND to yourself, to find a way back to each other!"

A hint of a smile flashed across Boris's face. "So! It seems that we have a project for the new year, Prinzessin!"

"Wait. . .what?! We?! Why we?! She is YOUR grandmother, Boris!"

"Ja! But this was YOUR idea! So. . .we are in this together, my love!"

Annabelle smiled, and shook her head. "Fair enough!" Annabelle raised her mug. "Here's to our. . .project!"

Boris raised his glass in return. "And. . .God bless us, every one!"

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	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

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"I demand PROOF that Santa Claus never had freckles!"

Boris and Annabelle were playing a Christmas trivia game. That question had cost Annabelle the game, and she was laughingly protesting! But it felt good to be talking – and laughing – after their rather serious discussion earlier in the afternoon.

"Ha! Look around you, Annabelle! Do you see freckles upon the faces of ANY of the Santa figurines in this room?!"

"Oh, TBHTTTTT! That doesn't mean anything! The REAL Santa Claus could have freckles?!"

"The real Santa Claus?!"

"Yes, Boris, the REAL Santa Claus!"

They were about to start another game, when the library door opened, and in walked Olga.

Even in her advanced years, she was still a beautiful woman – tall and slender, with silver white hair. She walked with a cane, but her carriage was still regal. It was easy to see where Boris got his patrician good looks.

Ever the gentleman, Boris stood and kissed his grandmother on both cheeks. "Would you care for a glass of sherry, Oma?"

"Ja, danke!" Olga sat down on the couch beside Annabelle. Boris brought her sherry, and sat down on the other couch.

"So. . .how was your visit with your friend?"

"It was quite lovely, Annabelle; thank you for asking!" Olga had spent the afternoon with her longtime friend, Hedy. Hedy had come to the Hamptons as a German war bride in 1946, and she and Olga had been friends ever since. "Hedy is a good friend, but she has been very lonely of late! She seldom sees her family; they have very little time for her!" Olga took a sip of sherry, and looked pointedly at Annabelle. "You would like my friend Hedy, Annabelle; she has lived an interesting life! I know you have a penchant for the World War II era; Hedy could tell you many fascinating stories!"

"Well, perhaps I could interview her sometime?"

"Sehr gut! Hedy has invited me for tea next Wednesday; you will accompany me!"

"Ah. . .I. . .?!" Annabelle started to object, then chuckled. "Well played, Olga! I would love to have tea with you and Hedy!"

"Danke schön, Annabelle!" She took another sip of her sherry. "Now, tell me, Annabelle, have you made your New Year's resolutions?"

Annabelle shook her head, rather vigorously. "Oh, no; I don't make resolutions anymore!"

"Why ever not, child?! Making resolutions, having goals. . .it is such a positive way to begin the new year!"

"It is! But I have no follow-through!"

"Follow. . .through? I am not sure I understand?!"

"I start things; I don't finish them! I used to make New Year's resolutions. I would compile an impressive list of things I wanted to accomplish – clean out my closets, read a book every week, start doing yoga, learn to speak Italian, take cooking lessons. . .stop communicating with hand gestures when somebody cuts me off in traffic?! And I would start some of them. . .but I would never finish any of them! I got tired of feeling like a bloody failure. . .so. . .I just stopped making the bloody resolutions!"

"Ah. . .I see! No. . .follow-through!"

"Exactly!"

"Well, then, Annabelle. . .that must be your resolution!"

"I. . .wait. . .what now?!"

A hint of a smile appeared. "Child, your New Year's resolution must be. . .to follow through! If you start something, make every attempt to finish it, no matter how large or how small the task!"

"Hmpf?! Well. . .?!" Annabelle looked – and sounded – skeptical. "I never thought about it quite like that before?!"

"Sehr gut! Now, Boris, what about you? Have you made any New Year's resolutions?"

"Hmpf?!" Boris took a sip of Scotch before answering his grandmother. "Well. . .it was recently pointed out to me that, on occasion, I, perhaps, am not as open-minded as I could be?!" Boris took another sip of Scotch. "I suppose that I could address that particular character flaw in the new year!"

Annabelle lifted her mug of eggnog in mock salute. "Well done, my love!"

Another surly "Hmpf!" was his only reply, so Annabelle turned her attention to Olga. "So, Olga. . .what about you?! Have you made any New Year's resolutions?"

"Indeed, I have!" Olga sipped her sherry, a Mona Lisa smile on her face.

"Annabelle does not like to be kept in suspense, Olga! Bitte, tell her your resolution, before she succumbs to a fit of apoplexy?!"

"I am going to write a book!"

Annabelle clapped and whooped, "Jolly good!", while Boris choked on his Scotch!

"You are going to write a book?! Have you just. . .I. . .have you. . .?!" Trying to keep his temper in check, Boris set his crystal tumbler of Scotch down on the glass-topped table with a sharp clink, then took a deep breath. "So. . .you are going to write a book. And WHAT, pray tell, will be the subject of this. . .tome?!"

"Oh. . .this house. . .Shadow Pond! I knew, last night, at the masquerade ball. Boris, this house has such a storied history! There have been other masquerade balls, and dinner parties, teas, picnics, and birthday parties – each with their own story! I think I would like to share those stories?!" Olga turned from Boris to Annabelle. "Why, I remember one birthday party – Boris was, I believe, five? The mayor attended; he brought Boris a new car for one of his train sets. And there were circus animals; Boris rode on an elephant! Meine kleine Prinz! 'Page Six' published pictures!" Olga leaned towards Annabelle and patted her hand. "Perhaps. . .you and Boris could assist me?!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Annabelle saw Boris lean forward, ready to attack, and she decided to cut him off before he could launch into an angry tirade. "You know, Boris, a book about Shadow Pond, written by someone who actually lived at Shadow Pond, could be quite interesting! Shadow Pond is still the second-largest private home ever built in the United States; it has historical value. You've told me time and again you have hundreds of photographs archived. I think, between the photos, and Olga's stories, we could create a magnificent coffee table book! It might be fun!"

Boris opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. It was two against one. . .and Olga and Annabelle were both formidable opponents! Shaking his head, he threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Well! You two ladies seem quite determined to move forward with this. . .project, ja?!

"Ja, absolut!" Olga nodded emphatically. She was not about to let Boris stop her!

"Annabelle?" Boris shifted his gaze to her; she seemed equally determined!

"Boris, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think Olga's idea is intriguing! I certainly think that it merits further discussion! What harm can it do?!"

Boris sighed deeply. "I see, as you have so often told me, Annabelle, that any resistance on my part is futile!" He could see her trying to hide her smile. "So, we shall discuss this. . .project – but today is really not the day for that discussion!"

Annabelle looked over at Olga. When she nodded, Annabelle turned back to face Boris. "Fair enough, Boris!"

"Boris. . .you will keep an open mind, ja?!"

Boris raised his glass in a mock salute to his grandmother. "Ja, ja. . .I will keep an open mind! That is, after all, my New Year's resolution!"

Smiling, Olga raised her glass in turn, and Annabelle, quite pleased with herself, applauded. Suddenly, Annabelle's stomach growled, quite loudly! Annabelle could feel herself starting to blush. "Well. . .THAT was awkward!" Annabelle looked from Boris, to Olga, and then back to Boris; they were both struggling to contain their laughter. "I'm sorry – but I'm starving!"

Boris opened his mouth to comment, then, reconsidering, closed his mouth without speaking.

"What time are we eating?"

"Dinner will be served at 6:30, Prinzessin. So, I am sorry, but you must starve for a little while longer!"

"Hmph?! And if I starve to death, Boris, it will be on your head! And THAT would certainly be an inauspicious start to the new year!" Annabelle could see that she was getting no sympathy from Boris. "Well. . .dinner certainly smells delicious!"

Olga leaned toward Annabelle and patted her hand. "Pork and sauerkraut! A traditional German New Year's dinner." Olga turned to look at Boris. "So! We must distract Annabelle! What shall we do until dinner is served?!"

Boris shrugged, and shook his head, but he had no suggestions.

Olga glanced at the game pieces, still scattered on the glass coffee table. "Perhaps. . .we could play a game?!"

Surprised, Annabelle looked at Olga. "Do you like to play games, Olga?"

Olga nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, ja, I do!" She smiled at Boris, her expression softening. "When he was a little boy, Boris would beg me to play Monopoly with him; we would sit right here, in this library, and play for hours on end! Do you remember, Boris?"

"Ja, I do!"

Olga gave Annabelle a conspiratorial glance. "When he was very young, Boris liked to play for peanut butter cookies."

Annabelle could barely contain her laughter. "Well, that's good to know! I'll remember that, the next time we play Trivial Pursuit!"

"Hmpf!" That was the only answer that Annabelle was going to get.

"So! How do we play this game?" Olga gestured toward the game pieces.

"Oh, it's easy, Olga! You answer questions about Christmas; you get a letter for every correct answer. The first person to spell out 'Christmas' is the winner."

"Well, that certainly sounds simple enough!" Olga gave Boris a speculative glance, then shifted her attention to Annabelle. "Perhaps. . .we could play the men against the women?"

Before Annabelle could come to Olga's defense, Boris pounced. "Just a moment, bitte! Perhaps you have not noticed; there are two of you, and only one of me!"

Annabelle could barely contain herself. "Boris – are you afraid that the two of us will beat you?!"

Boris looked offended. "Do not be ridiculous, Prinzessin! I am afraid of no such thing! I just. . . ."

"Yes?" Annabelle knew she was enjoying herself a little too much.

"I. . .you. . . ."

"Fish or cut bait, Boris! Yes or no. . .you against Olga and me?!"

"Fine!" Boris threw his hands in the air, knowing he had no other option but to surrender. "Olga, roll the dice!"

Olga reached for the dice, and Annabelle raised her mug in the air. "Ladies and gentlemen. . .welcome to the Thunderdome!"

**RPRPRPRPRP**

So. . .Where do I go next?!

**RPRPRPRPRP**


End file.
